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IN THE DAYS OF 76 




A.FLANAGAN COMPANY CHICAGO 



His Encounters in Pursuit of Knowledge 



A Modern Morality Play in One Act 
By EDITH EVERETT 

For nine (or fourteen) male and eight (or thirteen) 

female characters. Time, about one hour. 

Costumes, easy. Scene, a student's room. 



"EVERYSTUDENT" is a modern morality 
play, depicting trials and temptations of stu- 
dent life through symbolic character represen- 
tations of various virtues, vices and conditions* 
If not in style, at least in purpose it is fashioned 
after the old English morality plays, of which 
"Everyman'* is the best known example, and 
' 'Every woman' ' is the distinguished modern 
characterization. 

The dramatic coloring and interest in this 
play are real and sincere, and it is hoped that 
the interlude may find acceptance and favor 
with high schools and colleges. With the 
suggested music, and the introduction of other 
pieces if thought desirable, the play will form 
an entertainment at once attractive and pleas- 
ing. The little work ought, also, to answer 
the insistent demand for a new form of com- 
mencement exercise*. • 

The final triumph loif Truth and Persever- 
ance over Bluff and Good Times will be found 
to leave an impress for a more clean and whole- 
some moral standard of life. 

PRICE, 25 CENTS 
A. Flanagan Company : Chicago 



IN THE DAYS OF 76 



A ROMANTIC DRAMA IN FOUR ACTS 



BY 



LILLIAN STAIR SCHREINER 



AUTHOR OF 

The Heavenly Twins," "Jack's Visitors,' 
and "A Modern Cinderella." 



A. FLANAGAN COMPANY 

CHICAGO 



.*\ 



?6^ 



COPYRIGHT, 1913 

BY 

A. FLANAGAN COMPANY 



THP96-G07324 



CI.D 32875 

t 



CAST OF CHARACTERS 

Lord Fallowfield Keeper of His Majesty's Prison 

Lady Fallowfield His Wife 

George Fallowfield Their Son, in sympathy with the Rebels 

Dorothy Fallowfield Their Daughter, a Rattlepate 

Diana Pomeroy Their Ward, Betrothed to George 

Lady Hamilton (Alias) Bess, the Gypsy 

Jimmie Mercer Enamoured of Dorothy 

Lord Cranston Captain of His Majesty's Troops 

Sir Arthur Lovejoy Of His Majesty's Service 

sSto} Servants t0 the ™° wfi ^ 

British Soldiers and Other Servants 

COSTUMES 

Ladies — Dress of the Revolutionary period, high powdered hair, 
rouge, and patches. Lady Hamilton when disguised as the Gypsy 
has dark hair in curls around the face, and wears red cape and 
hood, also high-heeled red shoes. 

Gentlemen — Also dress of the period, military costume when nec- 
essary. After First Act George wears costume of a soldier of the 
Continental Army. 

SYNOPSIS 

Act I. — The garden at Fairmount, the home of the Fallowfields 
near Philadelphia, the morning after the Battle of Bunker Hill, 
June 18, 1776. A Son's Defiance. 

Act II. — The Camp of the British on the outskirts of Philadelphia 
two years later, June, 1778. The Lost Packet. 

Act III. — Lady Hamilton's house in Philadelphia, the same even- 
ing, while a Tory Ball is in progress. An Exchange of Prisoners. 

Act IV. — The garden at Fairmount, the next morning. The plight 
of a Spy. Reconciliation. 

TIME OF PRESENTATION 

About Two HourSj 

HISTORICAL NOTE 
The British held Philadelphia during 1776, 1777, and until June, 
1778, when upon the news of the approach of the French fleet, which 
had come to aid the Colonies, they evacuated it for New York. 
The time was spent in gayety, dancing, and feasting. Although 
Washington and his soldiers were starving and freezing at Valley 
Forge and other points they found means to outwit many of the 
plans of the British. 

3 



IN THE DAYS OF 76 



ACT I 

Garden at Fairmount, Lord Fallowfield's home near Philadelphia, 
the morning after the Battle of Bunker Hill, June 18, 1776. Street 
at back. Negro servants, Caleb and Susan, laying table for 
breakfast in foreground. Bench front, r. 

Susan. What yo tink, Caleb, 'bout all dis talk 'bout a wah? Don' 
yo tink it's jest runnin' in de face o' Providence foh young Mastah 
Gawge to talk so much 'bout de rebels? 

Caleb. I tell yo, Susan, I don' tink 'bout all dese tings. I got 
my wuk to do. Ef young Mastah gon' foh to run his head gin a 
stone I can't stop him, kin I? 

Susan. [Contemptuously. ] No, I guess not! Guess yo can't 
stop nothin' nor nobody. I'se gettin' mighty tiahd o' yo, Caleb 
Green! [Flounces off, l.] 

Caleb. [Sitting down on bench.] Dah she goes! She's always 
jest dat way lessen I 'grees to eberyting she says. Females am a 
temptation ob de debbil jest as de pahsson says. But Law! ef I tol 
her all I know it would be talked obah in all de kitchens in town. I 
tink mahself dat young Mastah Gawge am a layin' up a heap o' 
trouble foh himself. I tink he gon foh to jine de rebels foh suah, 
an he pa — Gorry I don' wan' to stay roun' here when dat happens ! 
An dah is Miss Diana, she lubs him foh suah but she is all foh 
ole King Gawge — yes, don' I heah dem argifyin' many a time. I 
don' know how it am going to tu'n out I'm suah, — But I must get 
to my wuk, — de fam'ly will be a comin' to brekfas. 

[Gets up slowly and goes to laying table as Dorothy and Diana 
enter t l. Dorothy pulls note from bosom reading as she comes 
front, Diana watches her a moment then with a motion of despair 
seats herself on a bench, r., leaning her head on hand and sighing. 

4 



IN THE DAYS OF 76 5 

Dorothy is absorbed in note, reads eagerly, laughs at first, then 
stamps foot in anger, tears up note, and runs half crying to Diana. 
Exit Caleb, l.] 

Dorothy. The poltroon! The miserable wretch! Oh, what 
shall I do! Oh! Oh! 

Diana. Why Dorothy, child, what's the matter? 

Dorothy. Oh, I could melt in tears one minute and burn with 

wrath the next ! And yet it is so ridiculous withal that I 

[Throws back head and laughs loudly.] 

Diana. Why, child, cease this unseemly mirth and tell me the 
cause of all this pother. 

Dorothy. Oh, it is that jackanapes of a Jimmie Mercer as you 
might in truth know if you were not so deeply immersed in your 
own affairs. [Pouting.] 

Diana. [Starting as though hurt.] Is't not a trifle unkind that 
speech, Dorothy, mine? 

Dorothy. [Throwing arms around Diana impulsively.] Oh, 
forgive me, Diana, but of a truth none seem to think my affair with 
Jimmie Mercer of moment enough to 

Diana. [Impatiently.] Know you not, Dorothy, that to Jimmie 
Mercer the fit of a cravat, or the set of a shoe buckle is more than 
all the females ever born,— and I— ah, me! I 

Dorothy. [Contritely.] Forgive me, Diana. Think not of my 
foolishness. This empty head of mine does not breed a surplus of 
brains, but even my dull wit can see that your thoughts are greatly 

troubled. 

Diana. Troubled? Yes, truly. [Rising.] Little know you, 
Dorothy mine, how troubled they are ! 

Dorothy. [Putting arm around Diana.] What is it, sweet 
friend? Can you not tell your Dorothy? Ah! [Sadly.] 'Twas 
ever thus. This sad rattlepate of mine leads every one to think 
that my heart is as empty as my head. And yet 'tis not true. 
[Crossing both hands over bosom.] 'Tis a tender thing, this heart 
of mine, and "well attuned to sympathy." 

Diana. [Half laughing.] You foolish child ! I know well you 
have a tender heart, and sometimes I have thought that I 

Dorothy. Yes, oh, yes, what is it? 

Diana. Not much more than you already know, or at least 



6 IN THE DAYS OF 76 

suspect You know, Dorothy, dear, that my heart is full of gratitude 
to all in this house for the kindness you have shown me ever since 
your father took me in a lonely orphan child after the death of my 
parents. Oh, I feel that I must be loyal to your father and through 
him to our king, but of late — well, you must have seen how it is 
between your brother and myself. We truly love each other, but 
oh, Dorothy! do you know? 

Dorothy. Know what? 

Diana. I hardly dare mention it out loud, but oh, I fear he is 
about to join the rebels ! Last night he did not come in until so 
late! I watched half the night I am sure. Oh, I love him, but I 
love your father, too, and — oh, I am so unhappy ! 

Dorothy. Diana, dear friend, do not fret. I, too, have had my 
fears about George, — But I see him coming now, and I am sure 
that if I stay I shall be de trop, so La, la, until we meet at break- 
fast. [Runs off, l., as George enters from back.] 

George. Oh, here you are, Diana, — but why such sorrowful looks? 
And you are pale, my love, though far be it from me to say that 
pallor ill becomes you. 

Diana. A truce to levity, George. In truth, we have more 
serious matters to settle than the looks of a maid. 

George. Of that I am not so sure. [Trying to put his arm around 
her.] Especially when that maid is the man's best beloved. Your 
beauty is an important thing to me. 

Diana. [Drawing away from him and tapping foot.] No more 
of jesting, I say, but tell me rather what kept you out the greater 
share of the night. 

George. [Playfully.] A trifle jealous, eh, sweetheart? I am 
flattered, in truth. 

Diana. [Almost in tears.] Be serious, George, do? Can you not 
see that your conduct is very displeasing to your father? Well, I 
know that your business of last night had to do with the rebellious 
subjects of his Majesty the King — oh, trouble will come of it, be- 
lieve me! 

George. Yes, I fear that what you say is true, but 'twere well if 
the King took counsel with himself and ceased from troubling and 
persecuting a free people, for free they will be. Ever since the 
battles of Concord and Lexington I have felt it, and now 



IN THE DAYS OF 76 7 

Diana. [Fearfully.] Oh, talk not so! You pierce my heart! I 
have long seen where you were tending, and as for me, what shall 
I do? Your father's kindness, loyalty to my king bid me 

George. Yes, bid you forsake me, is that what you mean? Does 
not the Bible say that a woman shall forsake all — kindred, home, and 
king — and cling to her husband only? 

Diana. Husband, — yes, but 

George. But not to her lover? Her betrothed? Is that what 
you mean, Diana? 

Diana. [Weeping.] Oh, I don't know! I do — not 

George. [Gently.] Weep not, dear one. I shall not put you to 
the test. If I — well — if I go — I shall leave you free any way, what- 
ever I do. There, there! dry your eyes, the others will be coming 
soon to breakfast and I must go and make myself more presentable. 
[Places hand on her shoulder and bending down kisses her and exit 
r. as Lord Fallowfield enters from house, u, limping with a cane 
and loudly berating Caleb, who is following with shawl and rugs.] 

Lord F. You black rascal, hurry along with that rug! God's 
truth, you are slow ! 

Dorothy. [Running in l.] Good morning, father. Did you 
sleep well the night? 

Lord F. Sleep well, indeed ! A brilliant question to ask ! Does 
one sleep well with a gouty foot? I slept not one hour, daughter. 
Sleep ! Save the word ! How can one sleep in this God-forsaken 
land? Troops marching all night or the noise of ruffianly soldiers 
in dispute. Were it not for my allegiance to his Majesty the King 
I would throw up my commission as Lord Keeper of the gaol and 
return to England, where at least one has quiet in his bed o' nights ! 
[While speaking he has seated himself and with many groans and 
the help of Caleb placed his lame foot upon a chair. Dorothy and 
Caleb cover it up with the shawl and rug while Diana stands as if 
lost in unpleasant dreams.] 

Lord F. Where is your mother, Dorothy? It is not seemly that 
she should be so late. And George, well— 'twer vain to expect him 
to be on time, consorting as he does with rebels and ruffians. [Diana 
starts forward as if to speak, but stops as she sees George and Lady 
F. entering, l. Lady F. is talking to George as though in admonition 
and he is shaking his head.] 



8 IN THE DAYS OF 76 

George. No, mother, I cannot, I [Seeing the others.] Oh, 

good morning all. Are mother and I keeping you waiting? 

Lord F. [Explosively.] Waiting! You know you are! But I 
was just saying that when one spends his time consorting with 
ruffianly rebels 

Lady F. Tut, tut, my lord, let unpleasant thoughts be laid aside. 
Let us not begin the day with these useless and unseemly tirades. 
Good morning, girls, are you not greatly in need of your breakfast? 
Be seated all. [They take their places and Lady F. taps bell. Caleb 
and Susan enter with trays of covered dishes which they place on 
table. Susan places silver coffee urn before Lady F., then blacks 
step back and Lord F. raises hand. They all bow heads and he 
says grace. They then begin eating, waited upon by the servants.] 

George. Well, girls, what is the program of the day? Dorothy, 
think you, you can survive one day without Jimmie Mercer's society? 
[Dorothy bridles, but makes no reply. George turns to Diana.] 
And you, Mistress Diana, what gay cavalier will bear you company? 
Everywhere I go in the city tongues are wagging about the beauties 
of Fairmount. You maidens have made it famous. 

Lady F. Hush, George, in my youth in England it was not 
seemly for the name of any self-respecting maiden to be on the 
tongues of street brawlers. 

George. Indeed, mother, you know my meaning was not such. 
It was with all due respect that these friends of mine paid hom- 
age to 

Lord F. [Scornfully.] Friends of yours ! 

George. [Warmly.] Yes, Lord Fallowfield, friends of mine, have 
you any objection? 

Lord F. Objections be damned! Sir, I want you to understand, 
I don't even want to hear mention of such friends in my house, 
sir 

George. [Rising.] Then, sir, I 



Dorothy. Oh, George, sit down. [George reluctantly sits. All 
are agitated.] Father, heard I not speech from you of a certain 
mysterious prisoner that you have in the gaol? [Lady H., dressed 
as Bess, comes along street, back, and pauses to listen.] 

Lord F. [Angrily.] Yes, he's thought to be one of those damned 
rebel spies and the gibbet's none too good for him if convicted! 



IN THE DAYS OF 76 9 

[Bess shudders and passes on unseen by those at table. Jimmie 
Mercer enters mincingly, back r., carrying cane.] 

Jimmie. What is that I hear about a rebel spy, Lord Fallowfleld ? 

Lord F. Yes, a spy and I'm 

Lady F. Mr. Mercer, come in and be seated, pray. Father, I 
prithee give the rebels a moment of respite that we may finish our 
repast in peace. Mr. Mercer, have you broken fast this morning? 

Jimmie. [Who has been carrying on a conversation with Dor- 
othy in dumb shozu.] Oh yes, Lady Fallowfleld, for once in my 
life I was afoot early. These pesky rebels kept up such a commo- 
tion that I had no rest. [Speaks with slight lisp. Dorothy is mak- 
ing fun of him. He sees her and laughingly shakes cane at her.] 

Lord F. There, you see, mother, one can hardly speak without 
making the rebels the subject of discourse. What means so much 
disturbance, Friend Mercer? 

Jimmie. Why, have you not heard, sir, of the battle at Bunker 
Hill, near Boston, which occurred yesterday? We beat them of 
course. How could a scurvy band of farmers stand up against his 
Majesty's troops? So it will be all along the line. A few such 
puny fights and the colonists will be in subjection. 

George. [Who has risen, trembling.] You are mistaken, sir! 
Their cause is that of right and justice and it will prevail in the end 
against tyranny and abuse! [All rise, showing signs of agitation. 
Diana covers face with hands.] 

Lord F. [Chokingly.] This, this, in my presence! 

[Bess enters from street and comes timidly up to Lord Fallow- 
field.] 

Bess. May it please you, sir, to grant the petition of a poor 
Gypsy maid? [All look at her in astonishment. Diana is remon- 
strating with George, but turns to look at Bess.] 

Lord F. [Recovering.] Why — what — my good girl, how came 
you here? 

Bess. [Weeping.] Oh, sir, I have been trying for so long to 
obtain speech with you. Sir — I want — I want to go through the 
prison. 

Lord F. [Astonished.] My good girl, what is the meaning of 
such a request ? The prison is no place for such as you ! What do 
you want there? 



10 IN THE DAYS OF 76 

Bess. Oh, I know, sir, — but there is one there, I think, that it 
behooves me much to see. I have a brother, sir, lost from one of 
the Romany tribes in childhood. He was ever lawless, sir, and I 
fear me much that he 

Lord F. No, again I say, no ! You do not know what you ask. 
The gaol is no fit place for even a Gypsy maid to go; and His 
Majesty's rules are such that I should merit grave displeasure should I 
grant such a request. No, I fear you will have to look for your 
brother elsewhere. 

[Bess bows head and retires to back of stage, but remains in sight, 
listening. George has been talking to Diana, trying to persuade her 
to something, but she shakes her head and when he begins to speak 
she covers her face.] 

George. Father, I wish to say that this fight at Bunker Hill has 
decided me to take the stand which consideration for your feelings 
only has kept me from doing ere this. From now on my lot is to 
be cast with the Colonies, with the New America that is to be, and 
let me say to you, father, you are playing a losing game. The Colo- 
nies are bound to win! 

Lord F. Ingrate, that you are! Have I been spared only this to 
hear you, my only son, defy your father, your king, and your God ! 

George. No, father, not my God. The God of Truth and Justice, 
the God of Jefferson, Adams, Washington, and Liberty is with us. 

Lord F. Blasphemy! Does not the Bible say, "servants, obey 
your masters"? and what are we, pray, but servants of his Majesty 
George the Third, of England? 

George. No, by the Lord. No ! No, by all the rights that made 
John of England sign the great Magna Charta ! I say we are not 
servants, slaves, nor to be treated as such! Oh, father, mother, 
Diana, all, I can do no other way ! In the words of the great 
patriots of this cause, "Sink or swim, survive or perish, I give my 
hand and heart to this cause" ! [Raises hand as though taking oath. 
Lord F. stands, stern and immovable. Diana with face covered. 
Lady F. and Dorothy standing with hands extended toward George. 
Caleb and Susan back of others showing signs of distress, Susan 
with apron over her face. Bess watches in far background.] 

END of ACT I 



IN THE DAYS OF 76 11 

ACT II 

Two years later 

A British camp on the outskirts of Philadelphia. Time, late after- 
noon of day in June, 1778. British soldiers lounging in the fore- 
ground. As the act progresses the light fades, sunset colors are 
thrown on and gradually change to darkness at the close. 

First Soldier. [Yazvning.] Beastly hole! This America. 

Second Soldier. What in God's name want ye more? The pro- 
vender be plenty, and as to pretty wenches, there be no scarcity 
o' them. 

First S. Wenches, ye say? Prudes all of them. What can ye 
expect, man, from Puritans and Quakers, and the hideous garb they 
wear? By the Lord, my soul is sick for the rustle of silken skirts 
and the gleam of satin shoon ! 

Second S. [Laughing.] Thy case be truly a sad one. But what 
think ye of this war? Is it soon to end? 

First S. No end to it with a doddering old idiot on the throne, 
by name, George the Third ! 

Second S. [Fearfully.] Hush, hush, man ! It's arrested ye could 
be for high treason with such words on thy tongue. 

First S. 'Tis true, nevertheless. Think ye that hired minions, 
Hessians and all the scum of Europe are going to make headway 
against men who are shedding their life's blood in defense of home 
and country? 

Second S. [Listening.] Hush, man, by St. Michael, hush! I 
hear footsteps and 'tis blank treason that ye speak ! 

[Enter Lady H. r., disguised as Bess the Gypsy, gaily humming 

a tune.] 

Bess. God bless ye, good sirs, an' is it a fortune I can be telling 
for ye the day? Or wish ye some charms against the Evil Eye? 
See, here is the foot of a hare, the eye of a fish, a stone from 
the grave of Moses, 

First S. Hist, maiden, talk not of graves and evil eyes. No 
such thoughts should trouble that pretty head of thine. Think 
rather of silken gowns and necklaces of pearls to deck thy charming 
form. 



12 IN THE DAYS OF 76 

Bess. [Pettishly.] Ye know well that such things can never 
be for a poor Gypsy girl. But, kind sirs, — what will ye? A for- 
tune? [As one soldier holds out his hand.] Ah! — what see I 
here? War clouds hovering over ye! — Tis dark. I cannot see, — 
or, a Death's Head here! Oh, sir, kind sir [fearfully], take back 
thy gold ! I cannot read thy hand. [Draws back trembling. 
Soldiers look darkly at one another.] 

First S. Here, here, maiden, such fearsome words are not 
fitting. Tell my fortune if ye will but see to it that something 
better forfends for me. [Holding out hand y laughing.] 

Bess. [Mysteriously, as in a trance. Soldiers frightened, gaze at 
her.] Ah, — yes, — 'tis sunshine and happy days, I see here. Happy 
days, oh, how far away they be from a poor Gypsy girl! [Raises 
face to sky, then sinks to ground weeping.] 

Soldiers. [Looking at her and whispering^ touching their fore- 
heads significantly.] Ah, poor thing, poor thing! 
[Hoof beats are heard outside and Captain Cranston enters hur- 
riedly, l. Men salute.] 

Capt. C. An orderly has just arived with orders for us to 
march. An engagement is imminent. [Sees Bess.] Whom have 
we here? 
First S. Only Gypsy Bess, the Fortune Teller. 

[Points to Forehead.] 
Capt. C. Oh ! [Nodding in understanding.] I think it will only 
be a skirmish, and after that our orders are [Bess takes notice] to 
make a feint of pursuing the rebels to draw their attention from 
an attack on the main body, which is to be made here, and by this 
route. 

[Takes paper from pocket, points to it, then returns it to his pocket 
just as a noise of shouting is heard. He starts and the paper 
falls to the ground unnoticed as they all rush off, l., except Bess, 
who quickly picks up paper and hides it under her cape. Things 
begin to move as though in a wind. Captain C. rushes back look- 
ing f or paper. He eyes Bess sharply.] 
Capt. C. My good girl, did you see a paper hereabouts? 
Bess. [Looks up vacantly, hair and hood shielding face.] Have 
a charm, a charm against the Evil Eye, kind sir, or your fortune 
told? Pity a poor Gypsy girl, kind sir, 



IN THE DAYS OF 76 13 

Capt. C. [Studying her.] In truth, she is a poor half-witted 
thing. It were vain to have a fear of her, but where can that paper 
be? Has the wind carried it away, or the soldiers picked it up? — 
I like not the look of it. [Hesitating and looking again at Bess. 
Shots are now heard at intervals. Exit Capt. C, l., still searching. 
When he is gone Bess looks cautiously all around, takes paper out, 
looks at it, then hides it securely in bosom, shakes herself and 
contemptuously tosses away her bag of charms. Throws back hood, 
disclosing countenance which she has previously kept somewhat 
concealed.] 

Bess. Deception and lies ! How I hate it all ! But everything 
is excusable in a cause like this. [Walking up and down.] 'Tis 
almost three years now since I crossed the ocean and cast my lot 
with the Colonists, serving them as a secret spy. What a hue and 
cry would resound throughout England and America were it known 
that the beautiful Lady Hamilton and Bess Barton the Gypsy For- 
tune Teller, were one and the same. This very evening I, in my 
proper person of Lady Hamilton, leader of Tory society in Phila- 
delphia, hold a ball and reception in my own house. 

I came from England in search of a long-lost erring brother and 
donned this disguise for safety in pursuing my search for him, 
knowing full well that a poor half-witted Gypsy girl could go any- 
where without harm as even the roughest soldiers will not injure 
such. 

The bravery of the American Colonists won my respect and I 
have aided them where I could. Little know the English officers 
why it is that the rebels are so often cognizant of their plans in 
time to make a successful resistance. With the help of George 
Fallowfleld many of the plots of the British have been found out 
and thwarted. But it is a dangerous business and could my 
errand be accomplished and the erring one be brought home to his 
sorrowing parents I would give up the struggle. I fear me much 
that he lies languishing in Lord Fallowneld's gaol, which I have 
never been allowed to visit. But [standing in thought] a truce 
to private griefs, more pressing matters at this moment are pending. 
George was to have met me here. [Looking around.] I wonder 
why he does not come. I am anxious to show him this packet 
[takes papers from bosom] and ascertain its worth. Some one 



14 IN THE DAYS OF 76 

is coming. [Attitude of listening.] I wonder if it is George. 
[Enter George hurriedly, u, clothes disheveled and face bleeding.] 

George. What, Bess, you here yet? Are you not in danger? 

Bess. Of a truth it is you and not I that are in danger, .when 
you come in uniform and thus openly. [George staggers and puts 
hand to head.] What — what is the matter? You are wounded! 

George. Yes, and I fear me it is somewhat serious. 

Bess. Serious ! Yes, truly. There sit down while I bind up 
the wound. [Makes him sit. Takes handkerchief from bosom and 
ties around his head.] 

George. Make haste, for I have papers of importance to deliver 
to his Excellency this night. 

Bess. I, too, have something of importance to show you. Here, 
what is this? [Taking paper from bosom and showing him.] 

George. Girl, where got you this ? It is most important ! 

Bess. It dropped from Lord Cranston's pocket, not an hour 
since. I picked it up ; but no one suspects the poor half-witted 
Gypsy of anything, so he did not search me, although I was afraid 
he might. 

George. If he had, your shrift would have been short. 'Tis a 
dangerous game we play! But I must be going; this packet only 
adds to the importance of my mission. My horse is tethered yonder, 

and I 

[Gets up, but staggers and nearly falls. Hand to head.] 

Bess. [Supporting him.] Go, you cannot ; see, even now you 
are faint. 

George. I — must — I [Falls to the ground.] 

Bess. [Bending over him.] Ah, his wound is bleeding afresh. 
I must have something more to bind it up with. [Picks up dress 
and tears strip from white petticoat underneath and rebinds the 
wound.] There, that will stay it somewhat; but he is in sore need 
of attention, and I can do nothing. These papers must be delivered 
to his Excellency, immediately. [Taking papers from George.] Ah, 
it is in sore straits I am ! If I leave him it is sure capture and 
perhaps death. [Bends over him again. The light has faded until 
almost dark.] His face looks ghastly in this light Oh, I know not 
what to do ! But I think I must leave him. He said his horse was 
tethered near, and it is well I can ride. [As she gets up she stumbles 



IN THE DAYS OF 76 15 

and nearly falls.] Oh, my ankle! Ah, how lucky that I did not 
sprain it! But my shoe— I have lost it ! [Looks around.] I cannot 
find it! [Sounds of hoof-beats heard.] Oh, some one is coming! 
I must go ! But to leave him ! There's no other way. The papers 
must be delivered and with no suspicious documents upon him his 
fate may not be so dangerous. Now for your horse, poor George, 
God grant he be gentle and swift, for in sad plight am I for riding 
this night. Surely when the soldiers see Gypsy Bess riding through 
the night, her red cape flapping in the wind, they will think it only 
another fantasy of her poor half-witted brain, and not molest me. 
Good-by, dear George, may God protect you. Your need is greater 
than mine. [Goes off, u, limping with one stockinged foot.] 

[Enter British Soldiers, r. Hoof-beats are heard.] 

Second S. Hist, what's that, what's that? Are we ambushed 
here? 

First S. 'Tis nothing, some runaway steed, perhaps, or farmer's 
colt. [Contemptuously.] Art always hearing sounds ! Why stayed 
ye not at home tied to thy mother's bodice lace? Thou'rt not fit 
for sojering! 

Second S. Tush, man, 'tis a hard tongue ye have! But the 
maunderings of Gypsy Bess have set my nerves a-tingle, and truly 
as I came along I caught sight of the steed and as I live he had 
no mortal rider. Great wings flapped above him ! Verily I believe 
witches are abroad the night. [Looks fearfully around.] 

First S. Truly ye grow worse with every hour that passes. The 
rider that ye saw was in all likelihood the very Gypsy wench we 
saw this afternoon. Ye see a bad omen in every wind that blows. 
Now calm thy fears and light the lantherns and get wood for a 
fire. The captain will be hungry when he returns. Methinks it is 
a wild-goose chase that he is leading and he will soon be here. 

[Low groans are heard.] 

Second S. Whist, man, — what's that? Heard ye not groans near 
by? 'Tis a witches' nest here abouts ! 

First S. A murrain on ye ! Witches and groans ! I heard 
naught, I — [Groans heard again.] Thou'rt right, there is some one 
here ! But 'tis no ghost, rest ye, — that's too hearty a groan for a 
ghost. Come with a lanthern this way. [They search around, 
and then discover George, who is becoming conscious and trying to 



16 IN THE DAYS OF 76 

sit up.] Ha! 'Tis one of these damned rebels who is making all 
this fuss. Shall I billet him one over the head and stop his noise 
forever ? 

Second S. Are ye daft man? He has got almost his death blow 
as it is, I'm thinking. But here comes the Captain and orderly. 
We'll turn him over to them. 

[Enter Captain C. and Orderly, r.] 

Captain C. Well, men, what's to do here? 

Second S. 'Tis a rebel soldier, sir, a spy mayhap, but he's sore 
wounded. [George is coming to consciousness and sitting up.] 

Captain C. Well, sir, what have you to say for yourself? 

George. [Trying to rise and salute.] Sir, — I know not — Where 
am I ? I belong to Lafayette's staff of the American forces. But 
how I came here I cannot say, I 

Captain C. Rather a lame answer, sir. 

George. See you not, sir, that I am wounded? That must surely 
be reason enough for a certain confusion in my speech and memory. 
The last I knew we were engaged in battle, and then all is blank. 
I must have received a wound and, becoming delirious, lost my 
way and wandered here. [Aside.] I must say something to divert 
their minds. The papers, — I wonder where they can be. Did Bess 
take them? 

Captain C. [Holding lantern to face and seeing bandage and 
blood.] Well, sir, I can but believe you and give you the honors 
of war as a prisoner, taken in battle. [Looking at him closely.] But 
had I the least suspicion that you were here to spy upon us, or if 
my men find so much as one suspicious paper upon you, at sunrise 
you will be shot as a spy. Proceed, men, to search him while I 
examine the ground for further signs. The incident has a danger- 
ous look. [Takes lantern and examines ground closely, finds Bess's 
slipper.] Here, what's this, a lady's silken shoe! How's this, sir? 
and that handkerchief that binds your head? Hand it me! Of the 
finest cambric! And if I mistake not, this is a strip from a lady's 
petticoat ! [Looks closer.] In the corner of the handkerchief is the 
letter "H" in fine embroidery. Sir, what means all this? 

George. [Aside] I must not betray her, 'tis Bess, brave girl. She 
has taken the papers. [Aloud.] I know not, sir. 'Tis as I told you. 



IN THE DAYS OF 76 17 

I remember nothing but the little smoke and glare. If I wandered 
here, and some one bound up my wound I knew it not. 

First S. [Saluting.] Beg pardon, sir, but as ye know Bess the 
Gypsy maid fared by here this evening with her charms and for- 
tunes. Perchance, out of pity on seeing the man wounded and 
bleeding, she did bind up his wounds, and becoming frightened did 
lose her shoe. 

Capt. C. [Who has been examining shoe closely.] Tis not often 
that a silken shoe with the trade mark of an expensive bootmaker 
of London, nor yet cambric handkerchiefs and lace-trimmed petti- 
coats are wont to be the property of Romany wenches. But — [after 
a pause] we shall see what we shall see. However, I would have 
you all know that it has come to the knowledge of those in authority 
that dangerous spies are at work [George starts] and everything 
shall be done for their apprehension. Of these I shall take posses- 
sion. [Puts shoe, handkerchief, etc., in pocket.] And now let the 
camp discipline proceed. After mess we will convey the prisoner 
to the city for greater security. Attention ! Forward, march ! 
[Soldiers first come to attention, then shoulder arms and march off, 

r. Captain C. stands rigid until all their backs are turned, then 

takes out shoe and stands examining it as curtain slowly descends. 

George is led off between two soldiers.] 



END OF ACT II 



18 IN THE DAYS OF 76 

ACT III 

Drawing room in Lady Hamilton's house in Philadelphia a few 
hours later. Room in readiness for Tory ball and reception. Cur- 
tained alcove at back. Window back also, in front of which is 
table with long cover. Card table in foreground. Enter Lady 
Hamilton, l v still attired as Gypsy, but wearing only one shoe. 
Clothes dishevelled and mudstained. 

Lady H. So I am home at last, and none too soon [looking at 
clock]. My guests will be arriving within the hour. Ah, that ride! 
And in this attire ! But 'twas well I wore it. The rough soldiers 
laughed as I rode by, thinking it only a mad prank of poor half- 
witted Gypsy Bess. But 'tis a dangerous game none the less. I 
liked not the look of suspicion that Lord Cranston cast upon me. 
'Twere not well indeed that he should recognize the features of the 
proud Lady Hamilton in Bess the Romany wench. But I spend 
valuable time vaporing here. [Taking off cape and hood and the 
remaining shoe, she wraps them all together in a bundle and, hastily 
opening a closet door, thrusts them in.] There's good-by to Gypsy 
Bess, I wish it might be forever. The game palls somewhat. 
[Blithely.] And now for the gay Lady Hamilton. I warrant none 
will recognize a resemblance to the bedrabbled gypsy in Lady Ham- 
ilton with her powder, patches, rouge, and fine raiment. Ha, Lord 
Cranston, I defy you! [Gaily shaking fist.] I'll laugh and dance 
with you to-night and you shall forget all your suspicions. Ah, me, — 
I wonder how poor George fared? But whatever comes he must 
rejoice at the safe delivery of the papers. But time flies ! — My 
guests will arrive and no hostess to receive them. 

[Rings bell and servant enters, l.] 

Lady H. Where is Bella, my tire woman? 

Servant. She awaits without, your ladyship, and is overly 
anxious, as the time draws near for the arrival of the guests. 

Lady H. I know it well, Jonas ; but do you await here and inform 
the early arrivals that I have been detained, but will be with them 
shortly. I trust you, Jonas, to make all right. 

Servant. I will do my best, your Ladyship. [Exit Lady H., l.] 
Yes, that I will for such a good mistress as her ladyship, but [shak- 
ing head] these be surely troublous times when a lady as has gold 



IN THE DAYS OF 76 19 

in plenty goes out dressed as a kitchen wench. But ladies is ladies 
and all has their fancies. 

[Is arranging furniture while talking. A bell sounds and he places 
himself at side of back entrance as Dorothy and Jimmie Mercer 
enter c. Dorothy is laughing and shaking fan at Jimmie,] 
Dorothy. Ah, you jackanapes, can you never be serious? [Look- 
ing around.] Oh, are we the first to arrive? Jonas, where is your 
mistress? 

Servant. Lady Hamilton bade me to ask you to excuse her for a 
few moments. Some little matter about her costume. [Bowing.] 
Your Ladyship will understand. She will appear presently, and in 
the meantime she bade me present her compliments to you and to 
tell you to consider the house yours until she comes. 

Dorothy. [Laughing.] Very prettily put, Jonas, her Ladyship has 
a treasure in you. Mr. Mercer and I shall not find the time hang 
heavy on our hands until the others arrive, eh, Jimmie? 

[Exit servant, l.] 
Dorothy. [Mischievously.] Now, Jimmie, see what a good chance 
you have to make love to me. [Pouting.] But you'll not do it I 
know. No one ever believes that I can be serious about anything. 
But come here, you can adjust my shoe buckle at least. I see that 
it is loose. 

[Sits and puts out foot. Jimmie with a grimace toward the audience 
drops on one knee before Dorothy.] 

Dorothy. [Aside, laughingly.] I know he hates to soil his 
trousers. I'll get even with him for not being a more ardent lover 
and keep him there till some one comes. [Aloud and glancing at 
door, back.] Oh, Jimmie, how nicely you do it! I am sure the 
other is loose, too. [Sweetly.] Won't you fix it? 
[Jimmie curses inaudibly with face to audience. Sir Arthur Love- 
joy enters, back.] 

Sir Arthur. Oho, what have we here ? Has the gay gallant suc- 
cumbed at last to your charms, Mistress Dorothy? Eh, Jimmie, 
my lad? 
Jimmie. [Getting up in confusion and brushing his trouser knees.] 

Ah, well, — Sir — I 

Sir Arthur. No need to say anything further [laughing] ; but 
methinks it is rather a public place for a proposal and somewhat ill- 



20 IN THE DAYS OF 76 

timed. Shall we retire and give him time to finish, eh, Dorothy, 
child? 

Dorothy. [Who has been laughing behind her fan.} Oh, no, Sir 
Arthur, the time was over long for Mr. Mercer as it was and that 
was but one chapter in our romance. We can easily "continue in our 
next," you know. Come, Jimmie, you don't look much like an 
accepted suitor, on my word. [Aside to Jimmie.] Your looks do 
not flatter me, sir. Come, play the game like a man. 

[Taps him on the shoulder with her fan.] 

Jimmie. [Bracing up and laughing sheepishly.] In truth, sir, it 
was a bad time to catch a man ; but no harm is done, and if Mistress 

Dorothy 

[Enter Lady Hamilton, r., resplendent in powder, rouge, patches, 

and jewels, followed by Lord and Lady Fallowfield, Diana, and 

others.] 

Lady H. Ah, good people all, a thousand pardons I must claim 
for seeming neglect of you. But as you know well these provincial 
dressmakers are not what our London mantua makers are and 

Sir Arthur. So radiant a being as you are, dear Lady Hamilton, 
need make no apology. Your presence at this moment compensates 
for all delay. [Bowing low, he takes her hand and kisses it, while 
guests take places on each side of the stage. Lady H., front r., 
servant enters, center back.] 

Servant. [In loud voice.] Lord Cranston, Captain of His Majes- 
ty's troops and Staff. 
[Enter Lord C. in full military dress uniform with two aides, also in 

full uniform. Lord C. comes down center and bows low before 

Lady H., also kissing her hand.] 

Lord C. Your gracious Ladyship, permit one of your humblest 
servants thus to salute you. 

Lady H. [Mockingly, imitating Bess the Gypsy.] Ah, sir, — kind 
sir, — [then in a changed and wholly dignified tone of voice] I am 
exceedingly glad to welcome you to my home, Lord Cranston. 
[Lord Cranston starts and looks strangely at her.] 

Lady H. [Aside, as he turns away.] I could not refrain from 
that one little thrust. It is not possible that he could recognize in 
the brilliant Lady Hamilton of this evening the bedrabbled Gypsy 



IN THE DAYS OF 76 21 

wench of the afternoon. [Aloud and stepping out before the guests.'] 
And now, my friends, all enjoy yourselves, each in his own way. 
You younger folk may retire to the Ballroom yonder where dancing 
is now in progress. 

[Low music is now heard. Servant opens curtains, back, and reveals 
couples dancing past opening. [Jimmie offers arm to Dorothy 
and one of the aids to Diana and they pass out, center back. Four 
remaining gentlemen seat themselves at card tables, r., while Lady 
Hamilton and Lady Fallowfield seat themselves, l.] 

Lady H. And now, dear Lady Fallowfield, you and I can have 
a chat. How fares it with you in these troublous times ? 

Lady F. Ah, Lady Hamilton, you must know well that care 
sits at our board by day and is our bedfellow by night. Our son, — 
our erring one 

Lady H. Grieve not thus, I pray you, Lady Fallowfield. Have 
you heard nothing? 

Lady F. [Shaking head sadly.] Not for many months. I 
greatly fear 

Lady H. [Aside.] How I wish I could tell her the truth. And 
yet, I do not know his fate myself. [Aloud.] Well, Lady Fallow- 
field, if I can read the signs this war 

[She stops to listen to Lord Fallowfield.] 

Lord F. Well, Gentlemen, think ye as ye will, but I fear that 
our cause in America is tottering to its fall. Here in Philadelphia, 
perhaps, we see little of the real state of affairs, with our routs, 
receptions and balls given with no other purpose than to pull the 
wool over the eyes of the less sanguine ones. We may wake up 
some fine morning to find ourselves at the point of the bayonet, borne 
by these men whom George the Third calls rebels, but who, in my 
estimation, are fighting for liberty and home. 

Lord C. Hear, hear, the great Lord Fallowfield, Lord Keeper of 
his Majesty's largest prison, is talking high treason! 

[Ladies show great interest.] 

Lord F. Not treason, My Lord, but sense. Nay, nay, I am, as 
ever, a loyal subject to his Majesty; but this I must say, there is 
something about these sturdy rebels that commands my respect. 
Think ye back only to the battles of Lexington, Saratoga, and Tren* 



22 IN THE DAYS OF 76 

ton, and Valley Forge. With such a man as George Washington at 
their head what might they not accomplish? 

Lord C. Yes, and look ye how they treat him ! I tell you, my 
Lord, if they are all like him we would have had to flee back across 
the water long ere this. But they know not enough to appreciate 
him. Even he has enemies among his own countrymen. 

Lord F. [Sadly.] Aye, 'tis true, 'tis true. But there is some- 
thing about the cause that draws. When a son can forsake father, 
mother, king, and kindred to 

Lord C. Aye, that is a mystery. Hear you nothing then from 
George ? 

Lord F. Nothing in these two years. [Lady F. puts handkerchief 
to eyes, and Lady H. tries to comfort her.] God knows I was harsh 
enough when he went away, but I thought the matter no more 
than a summer's cloud that in a night would pass away. 

Lord C. Well, well, sir, take comfort, 'tis not much more, I think, 
and if aught had happened to him you would have heard ere 
this 

Lord F. I know not — but — 'tis the fortune of war, — but enough 
of private griefs, — Sir Arthur, here, does not share your hopes of 
a successful termination to the struggle. He says his plans are 
balked at every turn, that spies are at work. [Lady H. starts.] 

Sir Arthur. Yes, it seems that many of our maneuvers in the 
field come to naught on account of knowledge procured beforehand 
by the enemy. A daring spy is at work and if he, or she, — some 
think it is a woman, — be caught, hanging is none too good. 

Lord F. 'Tis so. Nothing is so despicable as a spy. 

Sir Arthur. Suspicion is beginning to be attached to the Gypsy 
wench, Bess Barton, seen so often around the camps of both armies. 
[Lady H. is listening intently.] Her gift of second sight in telling 
fortunes is truly a wonder. You know of her? [This to both gen- 
tlemen, who bow in assent.] She sells charms, too, against danger 
and the soldiers are clean daft to obtain them. 

Lord C. Yes, a poor half-witted thing, I saw her in my camp not 
longer ago than this very afternoon. She is harmless I think. 

Lord F. I know her well. She has troubled me much, seeking 
permission to visit the prison. I have always refused her admission. 



k IN THE DAYS OF 76 23 

'Tis no place for a woman and I have, moreover, some very sus- 
picious persons there. 

Lady H. [Coming forward.] What is this I hear about the poor 
Gypsy maid? She is not in your bad books, is she? You know 
well that she is thought to be a little demented, is always searching 
for a brother lost in childhood; and you know that by common 
superstition these half-witted unfortunates are blessed with the 
quality of second sight, hence her popularity among the soldiers. 

Sir Arthur. Yes, 'tis true, dear Lady Hamilton, but it is thought 
b" some that this half-wittedness be but a ruse and that by means 
of it she allays suspicion and thus comes by many secrets of warfare. 

Lord F. [Rising.] Sir Arthur, I think these suspicions of the 
girl are wholly unfounded. She has, as I say, been often to the 
prison in search of her brother, and to me she seems what she 
appears to be, — a poor unfortunate with wits astray. It is our 
duty, thus it seems to me, to lend her our protection and see that 
she comes to no harm in these troublous times. But where are my 
women folk. [Dorothy comes running in, center back.] Dorothy, 
rattle-pate, what's toward? Is it not time for scatter-brains like 
you to be abed? 'Tis near cockcrow now, is it not? 

Dorothy. No, no, father ! We want to dance one more measure. 
The minuet it shall be. We will dance it here and you all shall join. 
Shall it not be so, Lady Hamilton? 'Tis a stately dance and finds 
favor in your sight, father, is it not so? 

Lord F. 'Tis an improvement over some others that I have seen 
you dance, minx. Oh, well ! have your way. I will not be a spoil 
sport. 

Dorothy. [Dancing over to Lady H.]. Oh, Lady Hamilton! 
Father will stay for one more measure and let it be the minuet. 
May we not form on now? [Running back, center.] Jimmie! 
Jimmie Mercer! where are you? This is "Ladies' Choice"! Come 
and dance with me. [She leads Jimmie out and the others form on 
for the minuet. Lord Cranston has chosen Lady Hamilton to 
whom he pays marked attention. They dance a few measures and 
then break up and all bid adieu to Lady Hamilton.] 

Lord F. Good night, Lady Hamilton, this has been a pleasant 
interlude in these troublous times. 



24 IN THE DAYS OF 76 

Lady F. Dear Lady Hamilton, I have truly enjoyed the evening. 
Pray return the visit at no distant day. 

Lord C. [Bending low to kiss her hand, in a low voice] This 
evening ends all too soon for me. 

[Dorothy and Diana wave and kiss hands to her as they all exit, 
back.] 

Lady H. [Coming center, front.] More deception and lies ! And 
when they talked of hanging this evening I could see the gibbet 
rising before my very eyes ! [Shuddering.] Oh, what will be the 
outcome of it all? If I could be assured of George's safety, I should 
be tempted to give up the game forever. [Pacing back and forth.] 
Ah, far away now seem those happy days when I, a care-free girl, 
roamed our old English gardens by a loved brother's side ! Now 
I am a suspected spy in an alien land, and he, — God alone knows 
where he is ! Could I but find him, these scenes would know me 
no more. And Lord Cranston, his attentions can have but one 
meaning. Little knew he when he looked at the poor Gypsy girl this 
afternoon that he was gazing on the face of the woman he loved — 
and I — oh, he is an honorable gentleman, and, if he knew, he would 

despise me for my lying and deceit, — oh ! [Face in hands. 

Knocking is heard.] Who can be coming at this hour of the night? 
[Enter Lord C, center back. Lady H. starts backward.] 

Lady H. My lord, what means this intrusion? 

Lord C. [Bowing.] It is an intrusion, I will admit, Lady Hamil- 
ton. I almost had to bribe your servant to admit me; but as I 
have a matter of grave import to put before you, I risked your 
displeasure. Have I your permission to proceed? [Lady H. bows 
head in assent.] Lady Hamilton, you well know that the exigencies 
of war permit infringement of long established customs. Well I 
know that this is no fitting way for a gentleman to pay court to a 
lady, but I am encompassed with difficulties well-nigh insurmount- 
able. Long have I sought an opportunity to tell you that I love you, 

that I Oh, have you not seen it? Tell me, pray, that you 

are not wholly indifferent to me! 

[Drops on one knee before her and takes hand.] 

Lady H. Why — my lord, — I — you surprise me. 

Lord C. Oh, do not say that you have not known of my passion, 



IN THE DAYS OF 76 25 

have not understood. My actions must have proclaimed my love 
from the housetops. You must love me ! I shall not take "No" for 
an answer ! 

Lady H. [Drawing away.] Hold, hold for a moment, Lord 
Cranston. Rise, I pray you, and let us look at this matter in a rea- 
sonable light. 

Lord C. [Rising.] Ah, Lady Hamilton, reason is a cold remedy 
to apply to a malady like mine. 

Lady H. Wait a moment, Lord Cranston, before you commit your- 
self entirely. What do you know about me? Do you not understand 
that my past life before coming to the New World is a sealed book? 

Lord C. Your past life, what care I for that? Tis the present, 
the future with you that I am looking forward to. Oh, Lady 
Hamilton, what care I for your past? Love such as mine will for- 
give any past. I care not what you have done. I give my heart 
irrevocably into your keeping. [Bending to kiss her hand.] I know 
that these are strange and troublous times. Mayhap the name you 
bear is not your own. It matters not. When you are Lady Cranston 
of Cranston Towers, in England, who will dare to point the finger 
of scorn at you? 

Lady H. [Much affected.] Ah, Lord Cranston, those are the 
words of a man and a gentleman. Beware, however, that I do not 
take you at your word and in other and more dangerous circum- 
stances than these hold you to your vow. 

Lord C. [Impetuously.] I am more than ready to take the 
risk. Ah, put me to the test! [Holding out arms to her.] 

Lady H. [Aside.] I am almost tempted to yield and tell him all. 

[Aloud.] Oh, Lord Cranston, I — know not what to say, I 

[Lord C. bends toward her and is about to take her in his arms when 

a loud knocking is heard outside and servant enters hurriedly.] 

Servant. Lord Cranston is wanted below by a company of 
soldiers with a prisoner. 

Lord C. A prisoner ! 

Lady H. [In a fright.] A prisoner! 

Servant. Yes, a wounded prisoner, said to be a spy. 

Lord C. A spy ! [He follows the servant out and Lady H. sinks 
half-fainting in a chair.] 



26 IN THE DAYS OF 76 

Lady H. [Starting up wildly, both hands to head.] Oh, will this 
night of horror ever end? What can it mean? If this is George, 
why are they bringing him here? Do they suspect anything? 

Lord C. [Re-entering, r.] Dear Lady Hamilton, I am going to 
infringe upon your hospitality long enough to have the prisoner 
brought in and ask refreshment for the guards. I find it is a man 
that was captured by my soldiers this afternoon, a suspected spy 
[Lady H. starts, but quickly recovers] whom I sent under guard 
to the city. They were waylaid by a party of rebels and badly cut 
up, only escaping with their lives. On reaching the city at this late 
hour, and knowing your sympathy with our cause, and that you 
have often succored wounded soldiers, they came here. Finding that 
I was here, they called me out. May I ask this small service at 
your hands? 

Lady H. Yes, truly, everything shall be done for them. The 
house, the servants, all are at your disposal. Give what orders 
you will. 

Lord C. [Bowing.] Thank you. [Retires, but re-enters imme- 
diately with George, much dishevelled and head still bandaged.] 

Lady H. [Gasping, aside.] George! I knew it! 

Lord C. Here is the prisoner, Lady Hamilton, I have taken the 
liberty of bringing him in here and placing him in your care, as I 
have matters of grave import to discuss with my men. They say 
that they fear something unusual is about to happen. They met 
with much disturbance in their march here. Guard the prisoner 
well. It may be of much importance to us. Every evidence points 
to his being the spy who sent the information to Washington to- 
day, enabling him to withdraw, but leaving his camp fires burning 
to deceive our troops. He was found wounded within our lines. 
How he sent the information no one knows, but suspicion is laid 
upon the Gypsy maid who was seen in our camp just before he was 
found. At any rate suspicion is so strong that he will probably be 
shot or hanged as a spy to-morrow morning. [Lady H. represses a 
scream.] As I said, I will leave him in your care; but I will place 
him at this table in front of the window in full sight of the sentry 
outside, who has orders to fire at the least suspicious move on his 
part. [Places prisoner and exit, r.] 



IN THE DAYS OF 76 27 

Lady H. [Going to George.] Oh, my God! what miserable pass 
have we come to, George ! Shot as a spy ! But say not one word, 
make not one move, remember the sentry! I'll save you yet! 

[Rings bell and servant enters, r.] 

Lady H. Jonas, I know I can depend on you. Now, make not 
one motion of surprise at anything I say to you. We are watched 
from the window. What are the soldiers doing? 

Servant. Eating like swine, your Ladyship. 

Lady H. Tis well. Now go you, fill up plates and glasses, then 
by any means, fair or foul, get the sentry out of range of the 
window if but for a few moments. Tempt him with drink, gold, any- 
thing ! When he is out of sight, give one knock on this door. Go ! 

Servant. The thing is as good as done, your Ladyship. Rum 
hath a fine smell to the nose of these Hessian hirelings. [Exit, r., 
and Lady H. paces up and down front, stopping to listen at door, r. 
Knock is heard. She blows out candles. Lights are lowered so that 
stage is in semi-darkness. Lady H. rushes to closet and takes out 
Gypsy's cape, hood, and wig of dark hair. The one shoe falls to 
floor unnoticed near front of stage.] 

Lady H. [Going to George.] Here, George, take these and put 
them on and give me your coat and the bandage from your head. 
I'll take your place. They'll never hang a woman as a spy and the 
disguise of the Gypsy can be used once more. The common soldiers 
respect her too much to molest you. Quick, quick. [While talking 
she has divested George of his coat and put it on, wrapping her 
head in the bandage. George puts on Gypsy's disguise.] 

George. But how can I leave you here to take my punishment, 
I 

Lady H. Say not one word! I tell you I am safe! [Aside.] If 
worst comes to worst I can remind Lord Cranston of his vow ! 
[Aloud, and pulling George to door, l.] Here, do you see that 
staircase? It leads to a door at the back of the house, little used 
and shielded by shrubbery. Go, hide, escape, — the disguise will hide 
you for a time at least. Go, quickly, I can do no more! [Exit 
George, l. Lady H. seats herself at table in George's place, head 
bowed and dress hidden by long table cover.] Ah, dear Heaven, 
grant they do not come soon ! Every moment is just so much 
gained for him! [Enter Lord C, center back.] 



28 IN THE DAYS OF 76 

Lord C. [Coming front.] What, darkness here! Where is 
Lady Hamilton? And the prisoner. [Looking toward table. Faint 
light shines through window.] Ah, he is safe at least, but I can- 
not understand the candles being out and Lady Hamilton's absence. 
I must look into this! [Going, r., and calling.] Ho! — Attention, 
here! 

Servant. [Entering, r.] Did you call, sir? 

Lord C. I did. Bring lighted candles here immediately. I like 
not the look of this. Where is your mistress? 

Servant. Why, sir, she was here but a moment gone. I'll bring 
candles, sir, the wind, mayhap, has blown these out? [Exit, r.] 

Lord C. [Contemptuously.] There is no wind! [Is stumbling 
around and falls over shoe. Picks it up as candles are brought in 
and lights turned on. Exit servant, r.] What is this? [Holding it 
up to the light and coming front.] A red satin shoe! 

Lady H. [Aside.] Oh, I am lost, I am lost! 

Lord C. [Who has been examining shoe closely.] And as I live 
a mate to the one I found on the battle field to-day! How came it 
here? The shoe of Bess the Gypsy maid in Lady Hamilton's draw- 
ing room, and she deserting her post! By the Lord Harry there's 
treachery somewhere ! This will bear investigation ! [Starts toward 
back of stage when shots and sounds of confusion are heard out- 
side. Soldiers rush in, r.] 

Soldier. Is all safe here, my lord? 

Lord C. [Excited.] Yes, yes, — but what's toward? Are we 
attacked ? 

Soldier. No, no, my lord, but the cry arose that the prisoner 
had escaped and a few shots were fired before it was seen that it 
was only Gypsy Bess in her night wanderings. 

Lord C. [Aside.] The Gypsy again! And here! This grows 
interesting! [Aloud.] Back to your posts and guard well the house. 
I like not night prowlers whether they be in the guise of gypsies or 
no. [Exit soldiers, r.] The mystery thickens ! The Gypsy in the 
neighborhood and the finding of this shoe! [Again looking at it 
and shaking head.] And Lady Hamilton's absence, I like it not. 
[Looking at prisoner.] Perhaps the prisoner can solve the mystery. 



IN THE DAYS OF 76 29 

I'll make him speak. [Going to table, takes prisoner by shoulder and 
turns him around.] What is the meaning of this, sir? [Sees face 
and recognises Lady Hamilton and staggers backward.] You! — 
You! 

Lady H. [Rising and taking bandage from head.] Yes, Lord 
Cranston, I 

Lord C. [Gasping.] Treachery! And from you! and my pris- 
oner, where is he? You shall tell me! 

Lady H. [Sweetly.] Why, Lord Cranston, how can I tell? 
Gypsy Bess has many secret haunts, and 

Lord C. [Overcome.] It was he, then, in the disguise of the 
Gypsy that my men saw? And you, — this shoe, — and its mate that 
I found on the field to-day, do you mean to say 

Lady H. Yes, Lord Cranston, they are mine. 

Lord C. [StupiUed.] Yours! — And you are 



Lady H. Bess Barton, the Gypsy. [Laughing.] Did not the 
disguise become me? 

Lord C. [Shouting.] By the Lord Harry! No it cannot be! 
Traitress ! Spy ! Do you know what punishment is meted out 
to such? 

Lady H. I know it well, but remember your vow, Lord Cranston, 
not to question my past. Traitress, spy though I be, remember that 
you are looking upon the face of the woman you love. [Sadly.] 
I told you you were too precipitate in your wooing. 

Lord C [Striding up and down.] So it is you that have been 
spying upon us! You who were in my camp to-day! You and 
this miserable wretch that you have aided to escape to-night! 
[Savagely.] Tell me what he is to you! [Seising her wrist.] 

Lady H. Slowly, slowly, Lord Cranston, lest you say words that 
can never be forgotten between us. Listen! [Raising hand.] 
Among rough camps, as I have wandered in my search for my lost 
brother, not once has the breath of shame touched me. The poor 
Gypsy has been as safe among these rude soldiers as ever was 
Lady Hamilton in her luxurious home. And now, Lord Cranston, 
I recall to you your vow. I am the same woman to whom you paid 
your court and not one whit less worthy now than then. That I 
have aided the cause of Liberty, in ways devious though they may be, 



30 IN THE DAYS OF 76 

is no crime, and it lies with you to deliver me up to the ignominious 

death of a captured spy or to [Smiling at hint.] 

Lord C. [In great emotion.] In God's name, was ever a man 
and a soldier in harder case than this ! [Looking at her.] To deliver 
that lovely being to a spy's shameful death ! God forbid ! To 
perdition with the king and his cause ! Spy, traitress, that you are, 
I love you ! You shall be mine ! 

[Clasps her in his arms as curtain descends.] 

END OF ACT III 



ACT IV 

Garden of Lord Fallowfield's house, same as Act I, early next 
morning. Light dim. Breakfast table and seat in foreground. 
George in disguise of Gypsy asleep on bench in background. Enter 
Caleb from house much bent and with many groans. 

Caleb. Oh, Lawd a-massy! Dat rheumatiz is a great cross to 
be suah! Oh, Lawd, oh, Lawd! [Seats himself on bench, front.] 
Dese is suah hahd times! Two yeahs it am sence young mastah 
jined de rebels and we ain't heahd nothin' fum him in all dat time! 
[Shaking his head.] De house is a mighty solemn place. Ole 
missus, she don' nevah smile, ole Mastah is dat quiet, he don' cuss 
an' sweah at me no moah, an' Miss Diana is dat pale an' sad ! Ef 
t'want foh Miss Dorothy it would be lak' a grave yahd! But dis 
won' do mah wuk. We has ter git de meals jes' de same ef nobody 
don' eat much. [Gets up and goes to lay the table, groaning the 
while. Enter Susan from house, l.] 

Susan. Heah, wah be yo, Caleb Green, yo good foh nothin' 
niggah ! [Light has been gradually growing brighter and is now 
thrown on full strength and Susan discovers George.] Gord 
a-massy! [In a whisper.] Heah am dat Gypsy gal again to be 
suah ! 

[Caleb looks and then goes closer. Comes back, shaking head.] 

Caleb. Well, Susan, I nevah saw Gypsy gals wahin' sojer boots 
befoah, did yo? 



IN THE DAYS OF 76 31 

Susan. [Goes and looks.] Boots! Suah enuff! But come heah! 
Caleb, what's de mattah wid dis pusson, who evah it am. Look 
heah, dere head is hu't, do yo see? 
[Both are looking when George stirs and takes arm away from face, 

and they recognise him.] 

Caleb. Foh de Lawd's sake, Susan, it am young Mastah Gawge, 
suah as yo bawn! 

Susan. It am! Gord, what he father gon' foh to say now! 

Caleb. Well, Susan, I tink de ole mastah gon' be right glad to 
have him back agin. 

Susan. [Contemptuously.] I like ter know what diffunce it makes 
what a no-account niggah like you tinks anyway! But he is suah 
wakin' up ! 

George. [Dazed and trying to sit up.] Where, where — am I 

Susan. My poor lamb, yo's home. Don' yo know dat? 

George. Oh — but where are the soldiers, where, — oh, I must get 
away from here! [Trying to get up.] They're after me! I only 
wanted to rest a minute. I must have fainted or something. But 
what shall I do now ? Where can I turn ? Foes on every side, even 
in my own home! 

Susan. [Kneeling before George and soothing him.] Hush, hush, 
Mastah Gawge. Ole Susan gon' foh to take ca'h ob yo. Come, 
honey, come ! Yo own room is waiting, ready foh yo. Come 

George. [In despair.] I can't — I don't know — where to go. 
I [Enter Diana, l.] 

Diana. I thought I heard George's voice. [Discovering him.] 
Oh, you are here ! — and wounded. Oh ! [Running to him.] 

George. Yes, here I am, a coward and a poltroon ! Last night I 
escaped in this woman's garb, and now to bring disgrace to my 
father's house ! 

Diana. Don't, don't talk like that! How came you here? 

George. Oh, I don't know. I was wounded and trying to escape 
from my pursuers and instinct perhaps led me here. I fell on the 
bench and fainted, perhaps, or slept — I know not which; but here 

I am, doomed to be hung as a spy if taken, 

[Diana cries out just as Lord Fallowfield enters, l.] 

Lord F. Who talks of a spy here in my grounds? [Starting.] 
George! As I live! What brings you here, Traitor? 

Diana. Oh, not that word, no! 



32 IN THE DAYS OF 76 

George. No, father, no ! No traitor am I, only unfortunate. I 
never intended to bring this disgrace upon you. Unwittingly, as I 
say, in trying to escape from my pursuers I stumbled in here. I'll 
go, go at once. [Tearing off disguise.] But in my proper person 
and sot in the disguise of a woman! Yes, I'll relieve you of the 
necessity of giving me up. [Starts, R., as Lady Fallowfield and 
Dorothy enter, l.] 

Lady F. [Rushing to George.] Oh, George, my son! my son! 
you here, and wounded ! 

George. Yes, mother, it is in truth a sorry home coming. To you 
all I know my explanations must seem weak, but here I am, father, 

deliver the traitor up to justice to be hanged as a spy [Cries 

from the women and Lady F. throzvs her arms around George. 
Lord F. stands with bowed head. Lady Hamilton enters back.] 

Lady H. [In surprise to George.] George, George, I thought you 
far afield ere this. [All astonished.] 

George. 'Tis but by accident that I am here. An untoward one 
at best. 

Lady H. Good people all, let me be the spokesman here and 
explain this mystery. My place is here. [Going to George.] If 
you, Lord Fallowfield, must deliver him up to justice I go with him 
as Bess the Gypsy maid, a suspected spy. 

All. You! You! why 

Lady H. Yes, I know you will be shocked, but I have long played 
a double game. Now the performance is ovei and the curtain goes 
down. The story is too long to weary you with in all its details ; 
suffice it to say that a younger brother of a noble house in England 
was wrongly suspected of crime. He could not clear his name so, 
dropping it, he came to this country and cast his lot with the 
Colonists. His name was vindicated soon after he left, but all 
trace of him was lost, so I, his sister, came seeking him. In the 
disguise of the Gypsy, Bess Barton, I have searched every camp and 
every prison save yours, Lord Fallowfield. I, too, convinced of the 
justice of the Colonist's cause, have aided them in every way I 
knew, the disguise of the Gypsy being a great help in the work. 
Last night you attended a ball in the home of Lady Hamilton little 
dreaming you were being entertained by Gypsy Bess, a suspected 
spy. After you were gone George was brought there, and I helped 



IN THE DAYS OF 76 33 

him to escape, unsuccessfully, I fear, owing to the severity of his 
wound which must have confused his mind or he would never have 
wandered here. And now, Lord Fallowfield, it remains for you to 
deliver us up to justice unless you can do for the love of an only 
son as much as he and I have done to aid a struggling cause. 

Lord F. [In great emotion.] Ah, but you put a hard task 
before me! I have a father's heart within my breast, but loyalty 
to my king, 

Lady H. [coming to him.] Oh, Lord Fallowfield, for his mother's 
sake, for his sweetheart's sake, I implore you! Tis a mistaken 
loyalty and allegiance that you owe to the king. His is an unjust 
cause, — but if you must, deliver me up and save your only son. My 
life has not been all sunshine. Before I go I have but one request 
to make, and that is to visit the prison in order to see if he whom 
I seek is there, to tell him that he is free from the stain of 
crime 

George. [Stepping forth.] No, no! truly a coward would I be 
to allow such a sacrifice! If she goes I go. [Lady F. and Diana 
cry out.] 

Lord F. [In great agitation.] God of Truth and Justice, teach 
me what to do! Ay, truly the spirit is willing, but the flesh is 
weak! [Bows head. Noise is heard and Jimmie Mercer comes in 
gaily, dapper as ever.] 

Jimmie. Hey day, good people, all. Have ye heard the news? We 
must all turn rebels. A large French fleet under Captain D'Estaing 
has anchored off our shores. 'Tis here to aid the Colonists, so they 
say. At all events, General Howe evacuated the city in the night, 
and the rebel troops are marching in. 

Lord F. What! what is this you say? Howe gone! [All agitated.] 

Jimmie. Yes, and Washington coming in. Blue coats now, re- 
member, red has gone out of style. But why these sad faces? 
George how came you here? I thought you had joined the rebels. 
You have nothing to fear now at any rate. Scarce a red coat is 
to be seen within the city limits. 

Lord F. Well, my son, I cannot say what this portends, but it 
seems to me that it only antedates by a short time the complete 
victory of the Colonists, and, if truth be spoken, justice is on their 
side. At least, George, my boy, I am no longer under the painful 



34 IN THE DAYS OF 76 

necessity of delivering you up to your pursuers. To you, Lady 
Hamilton, I will give the permission so long sought, and I doubt 
me not if your brother is confined in my gaol a way may be found 
to set him at liberty. 

[Enter Lord Cranston, center back, hurriedly.] 

Lord C. Lord and Lady Fallowfield, pardon this early call, I 
pray you. I see that you have heard the news and will perceive 
that I must soon be on the march with my regiment, which is even 
now ready to leave. Is not Lady Hamilton here? It is she whom 
I seek. 

Lady H. Yes, I am here, Lord Cranston. 

Lord C. [Going to her, kissing her hand impressively, and speak- 
ing in a low voice.] I could not go without seeing you once more. 
[Perceives George.] Ha! Unless I am much mistaken that is my 
prisoner of last evening, is it not? [Looking at Lady H.] 

Lady H. [Laughing.] It is, sir, and now what are you going 
to do? 

Lord C. [Nonplussed.] I — well — you know it is my duty to take 
him — with me — but 

Lady F. [Agitated.] Oh, sir, — do you not see, it is our son. 

Lord C. Your son. 

Diana. Oh, yes, [imploringly] and my 

Lord C. [As though a light zvas breaking.] Oh! I see. You, 
Mistress Diana, have a special interest in the lad, and you, Lord 
Fallowfield 

Lord F. Yes, he is my son who joined the rebels two years ago 
and by a strange happening was restored to me this day and I — 
Lord Cranston, I know that duty, — allegiance, 

Lord C. [After a thoughtful pause.] Ah, I see it all now. [Look- 
ing at Lady Hamilton.] This is the Rebel spy whom you have 
been aiding, whom you helped to escape last night 

Lady H. Yes, and he unwittingly wandered here to his father's 
house. If he is to be delivered up as a spy I go with him, and now 
again I say, Lord Cranston, what are you going to do about it? 

[Smiling.] 

Lord C. [Going to her impulsively.] Ah, my dear, you know 
well what my answer must be. [All are astonished.] Lord Fal- 
lowfield, were this known I suppose it would cost both of us our 



IN THE DAYS OF 76 35 

commissions, but [extending hand to Lord F.] I wnuld not deliver 
him up if I could, causing sorrow to all these loving hearts, and 
anyway, as you know, the city is in the hands of the rebels now, 
and it behooves us to look out for our own safety. As for deliver- 
ing up this fair prisoner [taking Lady Hamilton's hand], a far 
different fate is reserved for her. [To Lady Hamilton.] May 
I tell them? [She bows her head in assent.] My friends, all of you, 
I want you to rejoice with me in my good fortune before I leave. 
Let me introduce to you the future mistress of Cranston Towers, 
England. 

[All express astonishment, and Dorothy runs to Lady H.] 

Dorothy. Oh, dear Lady Hamilton, I am so glad! Is it not 
nice to have a real lover and such a brave man, too ! 

[Looks defiantly at Jimmie.] 

Jimmie. [Coming to Dorothy.] Mistress Dorothy, you have 
taunted me with cowardice for the last time. It is my turn now. 
Good People all, I have something to say, too. Let me introduce 
you to the future Mistress James Mercer, mistress of — [stops in 
confusion] what shall I say, Dorothy? 

All. [Laughing.] Hear! hear! 

Dorothy. [In vexation.] Oh, Jimmie! Before all these people! 

Jimmie. [Mimicking her.] Yes, "before all these people." 
That's what gave me the courage. And [in great glee, and trying 
to put his arm around her] now we are betrothed at last, and you 
have got to stop teasing me, understand that, you minx ! 
[She draws away, making a laughing face at him. The others have 

grouped themselves around back of the table, facing audience. 

Lord and Lady Fallowfield, center, George and Diana, r. of 

them, and blacks extreme, r., Dorothy and Jimmie extreme l. 

and Lord Cranston and Lady Hamilton next to them.] 

Lord F. And now, my children, since these various affairs of the 
heart seem to be satisfactorily settled, ere we breakfast and begin 
the duties of a new day, let us thank the Giver of all mercies [rais- 
ing hand] for the wanderer's return and the prospect of a happy 
and successful future for the New America. 

[All bow heads as curtain descends.] 

the end 



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